


If You Go Out in the Woods Today

by Sexxica



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom John, Fawnlock, First Time, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Outdoor Sex, Teen John, Teen John Watson, Top Sherlock, Virgin John, reluctance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-11
Updated: 2014-03-11
Packaged: 2018-01-15 08:52:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1298929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sexxica/pseuds/Sexxica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You're sure of a big surprise. 18 year old John Watson certainly didn't expect to stumble into the realm of a forest god, let alone one demanding payment in order to let him and his friend Mike leave.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If You Go Out in the Woods Today

**Author's Note:**

> [Follow me on Tumblr!](http://sexxicawrites.tumblr.com/)
> 
>  
> 
> [Check out the amazing piece of art](http://ernstblack.tumblr.com/post/86144319317/forest-god-sherlock-demands-a-sacrifice-inspired/) by [ernstblack](http://ernstblack.tumblr.com/) inspired by this.

“Mike?  Mike come on, this isn’t funny.”  John shouted into the trees, adjusting his backpack once more.  He put his hand up to his forehead to shield his eyes from the bright morning sun and scanned the forest once more.  He could hear the distant, dull roar of the river, but otherwise everything was quiet.

“Mike?” John yelled again, starting to get more and more hopeless.  He had never wanted to go on this stupid camping trip, but Mike had insisted they get away for a couple days before starting uni.  They had set up camp the day before, and decided to hike one of the trails today, but they had somehow gotten separated.  John was sure he had been following the path with Mike right behind him, but now he couldn’t see the trail anywhere, and there was no answer from Mike.

John heaved a sigh, at least he could still hear the river and camp was definitely in that direction.  He was sure that Mike would head back to camp too as soon as he realized they had somehow gotten separated.  John tramped off in the direction of the river.

 

* * *

 

John had been walking for hours.  His feet were starting to ache in his boots and he was breathing hard.  He threw his backpack down and slumped on the forest floor underneath a tree, letting his head fall back and hit the rough trunk.  He fished his water bottle and his bag of trail mix out of his backpack and ate and drank just a little.  He tried to quell the growing knot of fear that was taking root in his stomach.

He was lost.  Definitely, completely lost.  He had been following the sound of the river all morning and some of the afternoon and it never came into view.  The sound never got louder, but it didn’t sound more distant either.  John thought maybe he had accidentally been following alongside it, but even when he changed his course, the roar of the river remained just as distant.  

John put his snack away and took stock of his situation.  He had most of a bag of trail mix, enough water for a couple of days if he was careful, a change of socks, a big, warm jumper, a lighter and some other odds and ends.  He supposed he would be alright overnight if he had to be, but he guessed there was still around five hours of daylight left and what he really wanted was to just make it to the river so he could find his way back to camp.

He hauled himself up off the ground, dusted off his jeans, picked up his backpack and started off again.  He was sure this time that he was heading toward the river.

  

* * *

 

John stumbled into a clearing, screamed wordlessly into the forest, he stomped and fumed and punched a nearby tree, making his knuckles bleed.  Panic clawed at his throat, but he channeled it outward into rage, and the tears welling up in his eyes were only because of the wrecked and bleeding skin of his hand.  

The sun would set soon and John could no longer hear the river.  He could only hear his own heaving breaths, his heart hammering against his ribs, and the wind whipping through the tops of the trees.  He crumpled to his knees in the middle of the clearing, shed his backpack, and tried to get his breath back.

The wind rushed past him, ruffled through his hair, and John could have sworn he heard a low chuckle.  “Who’s there?” he shouted, “Mike, is that you?”

John scrambled to his feet, whirling around wildly in the clearing, scanning the trees for any sign of another person.  “Hello?” John yelled again.  He waited, but only the wind answered.  He sat back down in the grass.  It must have just been his own panicked mind.

“Wrong.” he heard in a deep, masculine rumble right at his ear.  John jumped, scrambling away from the voice on his hands and knees.  He couldn’t see anyone around, but he was sure he had heard it this time.

“W-who’s there?” John stuttered, panic again overtaking him.  He managed to get on his feet again, and turned in cautious circles, trying to keep an eye all around him.  He was thankful it was still light out.

“Don’t you think I should be asking you that, trespasser?” Came the voice, again right at John’s ear.  John stiffened.  The voice sounded predatory, dangerous, and the fact that John couldn’t see anyone at all in the clearing, or on the edges of it was terrifying.  He balled up his fists and tried not to show just how afraid he was.

“I’m lost, p-please.  Please if you could help me find my way back to my camp…”

“ _Your_ camp?” The voice scoffed.  “What could have possibly given you the idea that anything about this place was _yours_?”

John tensed, the air was suddenly cold even though the sun hadn’t gone down yet, and the voice was still right at his ear, disembodied and rumbling.

“Please, I’m sorry. I just … I’m exhausted and I lost my friend and I don’t know where I am. Please, I’m … I’m frightened.” John conceded.

“Hmm, yes, I suppose you are. Your friend gave up so easily.  No fun at all.  But you, you’re a stubborn one, aren’t you?”  The air warmed again, and John tried desperately to ignore the fact that the wind brushing through his hair felt all too much like long fingers.

John swallowed hard.  “Is Mike okay?”

“Perhaps.” The voice almost purred like a predacious cat.  “But, then again, he’s not nearly as interesting as you are, John.”

John took a shaky breath.  Whatever this thing was, it knew his name, and somehow that made everything so much worse.  “W-why won’t you show yourself?” John questioned, even though he regretted it almost immediately.  

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” The voice breathed in his ear.  “Maybe I’m repulsive, grotesque even.”  There was a distinct smirk in the tone now.  “Maybe it will make this so much worse for you, John Watson.”

John swallowed down the implications from that last statement, along with his growing sense of dread.  “Show yourself.” he repeated.  A warm gust of wind buffeted against him, like strong hands pushing him backward and John was unable to withstand its force.  His back slammed hard into a tree at the edge of the clearing and the wind resolved itself into the solid form of a lean, tall man, holding John against the tree by his shoulders.   

On second thought, man was perhaps not exactly right.  His face was human enough, with sharp cheekbones, plush lips, and eyes that couldn’t seem to settle on just one colour, flitting between green and blue and silver.  His hair was a mess of dark curls out of which grew a sizable pair of antlers, not unlike a deers, and two large, furry ears.  His skin was ghostly pale except where it was covered with thick, dark hair on his chest, and (John blushed slightly) his groin.

“Are you happy now?” He asked, inclining his head, all of him far too close for John’s comfort.

John swallowed and trembled in his hard grip, the bark of the tree rough against his back even through his t shirt.  John just nodded, wide eyed and staring.  He had never seen anything like this before and he was caught between fascination and horror.  The creature was undoubtedly beautiful and he smelled like rain and sunlight and fresh earth with an undertone of something wild.  “What are you?” John breathed, almost reverently.

The creature rolled his eyes at that and gave a huff of breath.  He didn’t answer, but one of his ears twitched as he leaned in closer to John, running his nose up the side of John’s neck.

“Is, umm, is this your forest then?” John asked quietly, squirming in the creature’s grip as he continued to invade John’s space.

“Obvious.” He said, licking John’s neck where his nose had been before.  “You taste good.  Such a young thing, too.”  He breathed.

John didn’t know what to do, and he had nowhere to escape to.  No one to run to for help.  He was hopelessly lost and pinned to a tree by what he could only assume was some sort of forest god.  It was a ridiculous and completely unbelievable situation.  John wondered if maybe he had passed out and hit his head and was now having some kind of intense hallucination.  

“I assure you, John, I’m quite real.  It has been quite a while since someone stumbled into my forest though, perhaps the stories are no longer so prevalent as they once were.”

John stared into the creatures shifting eyes, wondering if it could actually read his mind somehow.  “Do you have a name?” John asked as casually as he could manage, hoping that if he kept the creature talking it would maybe at least stop pressing him quite so hard into the tree.

The creature hummed and looked thoughtful for a moment.  “Call me Sherlock.” It said decisively.

John swallowed, “umm, are you going to let me go, Sherlock?”

“Oh John, where do you think you would go? This entire forest is mine, as is everything in it.  That includes you now, and your boring friend.”

John was frozen in fear.  His pulse pounded in his ears and he felt himself break out in a panicked sweat even as the evening air was growing chill.  Sherlock continued to hold him against the tree and scrutinize him, almost as though he was trying to evaluate John in order to decide what to do with him.  

Sherlock snaked a hand up into John’s short blonde hair and gripped tight, wrenching his neck to the side.  John gasped and squeezed his eyes shut, pain radiating out through his scalp.  He felt Sherlock’s chilly nose press against his throat, making his skin prickle with goosebumps, even as he felt the too-close warmth of the rest of the creature’s naked body.  Sherlock sniffed at his neck and up behind his ear, then down across his chest and to his armpits.  John squirmed as Sherlock’s strange, furry ears tickled his face and his antlers threatened a serious jabbing, but the creature held him tight.

“What are you doing?” John managed to squeak.

Sherlock stood back up to his full height, practically towering over John in such close proximity, and let John’s hair go, both his hands again on John’s shoulders as if he still thought John would somehow try to get away.  “Observing.  Gathering data.” Sherlock said, his gaze piercing into John.

“W-what?” John stuttered, completely uncomprehending.

“What must it be like in your funny little human brains” Sherlock’s lip quirked up in a brief and mocking smile.  “I’m getting to know you John.  You are eighteen years old, one female sibling, overdeveloped sense of loyalty, and,” here Sherlock paused and took one more long sniff at John, “Mmm yes, and you’re a virgin.”

“How could you possibly know all that?” John said, gobsmacked.

“It’s simple really.  You humans, you see but you never observe.  And the smell coming off you John.  Mmph, it’s divine.  So young, so many hormones, and no one has ever touched you.  You’re intoxicating, John, and I’m afraid I must demand payment if you or your boring friend ever wish to leave these woods.”

“Payment?” John balked, “what could you possibly want from me and Mike?”

“Ohh not Mike, John.  You give me what I want and I’ll let you both leave.  It’s a very fair deal.  More than fair.” Sherlock whispered the last bit right into John’s ear as he pressed his body fully against John’s.

John breathed shakily, he was starting to get the picture.  “Y-you can’t mean…”

“I can and I do, John.  An offering, a sacrifice, for your freedom.”  Sherlock rumbled in his ear, his voice low and dangerously seductive.

John swallowed hard.  “What if … what if I refuse?”

Sherlock cocked his head at that, his ears and antlers making the motion exaggerated.  He pressed impossibly closer to John and started to trail a hand down John’s grubby and sweat-soaked shirt.  “Are you planning on refusing?”  Sherlock’s long fingers continued downward as John forgot how to breathe, let alone speak.  Sherlock tipped his head again, nosing under John’s jaw, sniffing and licking at his skin.  Sherlock’s fingers stopped at the waistband of John’s jeans.  “Well?” he practically growled.

John’s knees felt weak, and his head was swimming with a mixture of fear and arousal and utter disbelief.  Something about being so near Sherlock was exhilarating, with his heady, earthy scent, and unabashed nakedness.  His strange ears and antlers, which should have been ungainly, even managed to enhance rather than take away from how beautiful he was.  John had to admit that for his first time, he could do a lot worse than magical god of the forest. He also wasn’t too sure that Sherlock would let him leave if he didn’t agree. John squeezed his eyes shut and gave one silent nod.

“Hmm, good boy.” Sherlock hummed against his throat, giving it a small nip while he deftly unbuttoned John’s jeans, tugging them roughly down his thighs.  John gasped and Sherlock took the chance to forcefully claim his mouth, his warm tongue slipping past John’s lips.  

John cringed; it was so unfamiliar and invasive.  He wished that he could back up, but he was pinned flat against the tree, and now hobbled by his jeans around his knees.  He let out a startled whine instead.

Sherlock backed off, chuckling lightly, “such an innocent little thing, aren’t you?”  He gripped John’s chin, tilting his head up and making John look him in the eyes.  “Don’t worry John, I’m going to take very good care of you.  You’ll be begging for more by the time I’m done.”  John licked his lips unconsciously, Sherlock’s shifting eyes, seeming much darker now, were hypnotic, as was the sound of his deep voice.  Sherlock bent down and placed a gentle kiss on John’s lips, in stark contrast to how hard he was still pressing John’s shoulder into the rough bark of the tree.  

John shivered lightly, his eyes closed as Sherlock kissed him.  It was slow this time, a soft glide of his plump lips against John’s thinner, chapped ones.  Sherlock slid his hand from John’s chin to the back of his neck, cradling his head, pulling him up into the kiss.  John tried to relax into it, move his lips against Sherlock’s, but he felt clumsy and inexperienced and a hot blush creep up into his cheeks.  

John’s embarrassment seemed to only spurr Sherlock on though, and John felt his tongue swipe across his bottom lip, encouraging John to open his mouth.  John did so and Sherlock’s tongue slid into his mouth.  It was less possessive this time, and John tentatively moved his own tongue to meet Sherlock’s.  It felt hot, and wet, and alive in his mouth and he let out a tiny moan at the sensation.

Sherlock moved his hand off John’s shoulder, slowly running it down his chest, over the soft, flat plane of his stomach to rest heavily over John’s hardening cock, covered only by his thin pants.  John gasped into Sherlock’s mouth as he gave John’s cock a slow, deliberate squeeze.  His eyes flew open to see Sherlock give a lewd smirk before dropping down to his knees at John’s feet.

John was breathing quickly, his face was flushed and he felt Sherlock’s long fingers in the elastic waistband of his pants.  He hazarded a glance down and saw Sherlock looking up at him from under long, dark eyelashes, and the fringe of his wild hair.  He saw for the first time too that Sherlock had a tail, like his ears and antlers, it was very much like a deers.  “Y-you have a tail,” John squeaked, feeling, embarrassed and awkward and completely unsure of what to do in this situation.

He watched Sherlock’s tail give an agitated flick in time with a roll of his eyes.  “And you, John Watson, have a sizable erection. Anything else incredibly obvious you would like to point out?  Please keep in mind that I will not hesitate to occupy your mouth in other ways if you begin to bore me.”  Sherlock arched an eyebrow at him and John swallowed hard and shook his head, choosing to stay quiet.  “Excellent choice.” Sherlock said, pulling John’s pants down to meet his jeans already around his knees.

John squeezed his eyes shut again, his fingers trying to clutch the rough bark of the tree behind him as he started to feel a little light-headed.  Sherlock wrapped his fingers around John’s cock, giving it a slow tug from base to tip, drawing a low moan from John.  It felt so good, and John suddenly realized just how hard he had suddenly become.

The next thing John felt was Sherlock’s tongue probing against the head of his cock - licking and swirling around it, before licking completely up and down his length.  John couldn’t help but groan, it felt incredible, so hot and wet.  He was breathing heavily, suddenly glad for the tree pressing painfully into his back and shoulders, even through his shirt, because he doubted he would be able to hold himself up unassisted.  Sherlock wrapped his lips around John’s cock, and John dared to open his eyes again, looking down at the beautiful creature carefully sinking his mouth down around John with a satisfied rumble of a moan.

“Oh god.” John groaned his hand reaching out instinctively to Sherlock’s head.  He tangled his fingers into those dark curls, his thumb wrapping around the base of one of his antlers. Sherlock looked up at him and John thought he would have been smirking if his mouth hadn’t been so full.  Sherlock pressed forward further, John’s cock bottoming out against the back of his throat and his nose pressing into the dusty blonde patch of pubic hair at the base of John’s cock.  “Oh god.” John squeaked again, his voice in a pitch he had never heard come from his own mouth.

Sherlock pulled back, his cheeks hollowing with the suction, making John gasp and grip tighter onto Sherlock’s hair.  John knew he wasn’t going to last long.  It felt incredible, so tight and warm and Sherlock’s tongue was undulating against him, circling the head of his cock when he pulled almost all the way off.  John’s thighs were trembling and his breath was coming in stuttered gasps.  

John watched, rapt, as Sherlock continued to bob his head up and down on his cock, skillfully sucking him off.  Well, John could only guess it was skillfully, but he knew that pleasure was quickly building up inside him, ready to spill over.  He gripped Sherlock’s antler tightly, it felt foreign but grounding, and he pressed his back harder into the tree, trying anything he could to hold off just a little longer.  

“Ah, oh … Sh-sher-aah!” John stuttered out as some sort of warning, while he tried to push Sherlock’s mouth off him.  John threw his head back, his eyes squeezed shut as he felt his orgasm overtake him.  Sherlock just gripped his hips with his large hands, holding John against the tree as John shuddered and moaned out his orgasm.  Sherlock kept his lips wrapped around John’s cock, gently sucking and moaning quietly as John’s come pooled on his tongue.  John opened his eyes just in time to see Sherlock pull off and swallow suggestively.  John groaned and scrubbed a hand over his face.

Sherlock stood up, and without his hands to steady him, John started to slip down the tree, his knees unable to hold him up any longer.  Sherlock caught him effortlessly, scooping him up into his arms like a child, or a bride.  John blushed deeply and Sherlock bowed his head to kiss John on the mouth as he carried him out into the clearing.

Sherlock laid John down on the grass in the middle of the clearing, tugged his trousers, pants and shoes all the way off, then peeled off his sweaty t shirt.  John just gazed up at him, totally awestruck and still recovering from his intense orgasm.  In the orange glow of the setting sun Sherlock looked even more wild and beautiful.  John could see now that Sherlock was hard, his slim cock jutting out from the thick, dark patch of hair on his groin.

John swallowed hard as Sherlock settled himself between John’s thighs, and pushed his  knees up.  John realized he was shivering even though he knew he wasn’t cold.  Sherlock draped himself over John’s body, planting his hands on either side of John’s head and kissed him hard.  John could feel Sherlock’s cock pressing into his belly.  Sherlock broke the kiss and brought two fingers up to John’s lips and John opened his mouth obediently, earning himself a smile and a murmured “good boy.”

John sucked on Sherlock’s fingers, his lips wrapped tightly around them, and Sherlock watched him intently, slowly pushing and pulling the digits in and out of John’s mouth.  “Mmm, that’s very pretty, John.” Sherlock purred, slipping his fingers out of John’s mouth with an audible pop.

He straightened back up again and pressed one spit-slicked finger against John’s puckered, virgin hole.  John felt panic rise in his throat, and he threw one arm over his eyes, his breathing quick and ragged.  But Sherlock didn’t press his finger in yet, just circled around his arsehole, while his other hand stroked John’s thigh.  “You know I’m not going to hurt you, correct?” Sherlock asked and John only nodded numbly behind his arm.  

“Look at me, John.” Sherlock insisted, and John gradually lifted his arm and opened his eyes to look up at Sherlock.  “I will not hurt you, but you have to relax. Do you understand?” Sherlock looked genuinely concerned

“I understand” John replied, biting his lip and trying to get his breathing under control.  He felt Sherlock’s finger resume its slow tease against his arse, just brushing against him, not insistent or impatient in any way.

John focused on steadily breathing in and out and the comforting weight of Sherlock’s hand on his thigh.  The grass beneath him was soft and warm and the orange glow of sunset was fading away to night overhead.  John’s breathing was finally starting to even out and he felt Sherlock’s finger slowly slip inside of him.  “Oh” John gasped.  It felt so strange, undoubtedly intrusive but not altogether bad.

Sherlock started to move his finger carefully in and out, and John realized that it wasn’t even his whole finger yet.  He took a steadying breath and did his best to relax.  Sherlock continued to wiggle and move his finger, eventually sinking it all the way into John.

John watched as Sherlock bent down to place kisses along the inside of his thigh, and gave an involuntary shudder as his furry, oversized ears brushed against his sensitive skin.  He felt Sherlock’s finger wriggling inside of him, seemingly seeking something out.  John’s back arched and he gasped out a broken moan as Sherlock’s finger brushed against his prostate.  Sherlock smiled into his thigh and repeated the action.

“That … that feels good.” John panted, aware that he was starting to get hard again.

Sherlock just gave him a hum in acknowledgment as he introduced another finger into John’s tight aresehole.  John groaned at the stretch, it was uncomfortable at first, but not painful and Sherlock kept moving his fingers against that spot inside of him that obliterated any feeling other than pure, intense pleasure.  

Sherlock worked his fingers inside of John for what felt like ages, until John was squirming on the grass, moaning needily and seeking more stimulation.  Sherlock nipped at his thigh and removed his fingers from John before crawling on his knees up to John’s head.  He pulled John up to kneel with him, held him close and kissed him deep.

John moaned into it, kissed Sherlock back and pressed himself harder against him.  Sherlock groaned low into his mouth as their erections were squeezed between their bodies;  John felt it reverberate through his chest.  Sherlock reached up to John’s shoulders and guided him down onto his hands and knees before moving back behind him.  John rested his head on his forearms, his arse high in the air as Sherlock kneaded his arse roughly.  

John gasped and trembled as he felt Sherlock’s tongue wiggle inside his hole.  He couldn’t help but buck back against it, it felt so good and John just wanted more.  “Ah, Sherlock” John moaned, and Sherlock gave one more long lick against him.

Sherlock gripped hard into one of John’s arse cheeks as he pressed himself up against John’s hole.  John held his breath, the feel of Sherlock’s stiff cock against him felt impossibly big, impossibly hard and John was again regretting getting himself into this situation.

Sherlock ran a hand over the small of John’s back. “Breathe, John.” He instructed and John let out a rush of air before quickly filling his lungs again.  “Good.” Sherlock purred, continuing to caress his back.  “Relax John, you are more than ready for this, I assure you.  And you do wish to leave my forest, don’t you?”

“Yes.” John sighed.

“Good boy.”  Sherlock said and pushed himself forward, the head of his cock slipping past the tight ring of John’s muscles.  John groaned, it burned but it didn’t feel like he was being ripped in two, which was what he had been so afraid of.  “Ohh” Sherlock moaned behind him, both his hands moving to grip John’s hips tightly.

Slowly, carefully Sherlock pressed forward, then pulled back only to press in further.  John was breathing hard, his arse felt too full and the burn continued until Sherlock had seated himself fully inside John.  Sherlock groaned and stilled his hips, giving John time to adjust to the feel of him.  “Ahh you’re so tight John. It’s incredible. You’re incredible. So young and raw and beautiful.”

John could tell that Sherlock was babbling, coming a little bit undone, and the burn wasn’t so bad now.  John pushed back against Sherlock with a little whimper that made Sherlock moan and grip tighter onto John’s hips.  Sherlock pulled out and then thrust back into John.  He started slowly, but when he realized that John was completely relaxed, and making needy little moans with each thrust, he picked up the pace.

John moved his hips to meet Sherlock’s thrusts, it felt so odd but amazingly good to be full of someone else and he could tell his cock was leaking pre-cum onto the grass below him.  Sherlock was thrusting hard into him, changing the angle slightly each time until John saw stars and yelled out his name.  “Ahh that’s it.” Sherlock moaned behind him, and then kept up that angle with punishing force and speed.

“Oh god.” John groaned, “Oh god Sherlock please, please touch me.”

Sherlock obliged, sliding a hand off John’s hip to wrap around his stiff cock.  He stroked John, his thumb slipping over the sensitive head of John’s cock.  John moaned loud into the night air, he felt so indescribably good.  “Sh-sherlock I’m going to, oh, ahh … Sherlock!” John practically screamed as his second orgasm tore through him.  His eyes squeezed shut and his whole body shook as he felt his muscles contract around Sherlock’s cock inside of him, and his come coat Sherlock’s hand.

Sherlock groaned long and low, and it sounded as if he almost sobbed as his own orgasm neared.  He bent over John’s back, thrusting faster into him as he bit down hard on the nape of John’s neck.  He held the flesh in his teeth as John gave a startled shout and Sherlock tipped over the edge, growling as he came hard into John’s arse.

Sherlock’s bite hurt and John wanted to pull away, but he was afraid he would tear his own skin if he tried.  He panted as he felt Sherlock come inside of him and eventually Sherlock released his neck as his softening cock slipped out of John.

John collapsed on the grass, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck where he was sure a bruise was already darkening the skin there.  John was surprised when he felt Sherlock curl up next to him, wrapping his arms around John and pulling him close, John’s back to Sherlock’s front.

Sherlock hummed happily and pressed his nose into John’s hair, inhaling deeply.  “You were very good for me” He murmured sleepily.  “I’m sad I have to let you and your friend go.”  Sherlock yawned widely. “I want to keep you forever John.”  Sherlock pulled him in closer, and John realised that he must be asleep, given the smooth even sound of his breathing.  John couldn’t help it, and he drifted off too.  


 

* * *

 

John woke up in a panic and it took him more than a minute to figure out that he was back at his campsite, somehow wearing his jeans and shoes again, but his t shirt was missing.  He ran a hand over the back of his neck and the skin there felt very tender, certainly bruised, and as he shifted to sit up, he winced at the unfamiliar pain in his backside.  So it had happened, then.  

“Sherlock?”  John called out tentatively to the trees and turned his head quickly when he heard rustling, but it was only Mike coming out of their tent.  “Mike!” John yelled, running over to give his friend a quick hug.

“John, umm, okay.” Mike said tentatively, a bit confused by John’s reaction.

“What happened to you yesterday?” John asked.

“What do you mean? We went for a hike and then came back to camp. Don’t know why you were sleeping out here though, mate.  You were in the tent when we turned in.”  John just stared at him, completely stunned. “Are you alright?”

John swallowed hard, confused and suddenly unsure of his own experiences.  “Umm, yeah, yeah, just a bad dream I guess.”  John smiled awkwardly, hoping that it was the least bit reassuring.

“Yeah, sure. Why don’t we get packed up and head out?”  Mike replied, still looking a bit sideways at John.

As they hiked out, bags bulging and heavy on their backs, John looked back at the forest seeming to close up behind them.  He let out a deep sigh and rubbed the bite mark, standing out dark and lurid against the tan skin on the back of his neck.  He turned back to the path and could have sworn that the warm breeze felt like a brush of plush lips against his cheek.  John blushed deeply and jogged to catch up with Mike.

“You know, we don’t actually have to be back until tomorrow, do we?” John asked, playing off his breathlessness as an effect of running with all his gear.  “What would you say to staying another night?”

“Yeah, actually that sounds good. I slept like a rock last night, it was great!”  Mike agreed.

“Great, let’s head back and set back up!” John grinned widely, and Mike smiled back at him.  John felt the wind ruffle through his hair like long fingers and heard a low chuckle at his ear.

 


End file.
